Page 55 of Baja
Nothing changes my mind that the people who raised me are my real parents.
But knowing Jax gave me up?Then, years later, he decided to be what he couldn’t for me—a father to Lily.It burns. A lot more than I’d like.
When I return to the clubhouse, the sun sits low on the horizon, and my head is no clearer than when I left.
I pull up and park, then get off my bike and search for the one person who grounds me. As I reach the door, Alice bursts out, her gaze locking onto mine. She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she throws herself at me, burying her face in my chest, arms clutching my body like a lifeline.
I hold her tight, every ounce of my being pouring into that embrace as if my survival depends on it.
“What’s going on, Nash?” Alice asks, her voice gentle yet filled with concern. I keep quiet, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me like a heavy weight, a fog clouding my mind. I sense her patience, her understanding that I need time to sort through whatever’s troubling me.
“I’m here when you’re ready to talk,” she offers softly, giving me the space I need without pushing for answers.
The strip club is alive with bass-thumping music. The lights are low, and shadows dance along the walls as the girls work the poles. Salem and I sit at our usual table, watching the crowd. Ivolunteered to fill in tonight for Laredo because sitting around the clubhouse was giving me too much anxiety. My folks want to talk, but I’m not ready to confront them. So, instead, I’m going to sit here and drown my trouble with another shot of whiskey.
“Take it easy, brother. Can’t have you getting shit-faced,” Salem says.
“It’s my last one.” I hold up one more shot and throw it back, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat. Salem studies me, and the weight of his gaze bothers me. “Spit it,” I mutter.
“They’re still your folks, ya know.” His tone is neutral.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I keep my eyes on the stage.
“I happened to be outside and overheard their confession,” he tells me.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Then you’ll understand I don’t want to discuss it.” I strike the lighter.
A group of rowdy men a few tables away catches both of our attention when they shout at one of our girls. “I ain’t here to only see your tits, bitch.” He tosses dollars onto the stage. “Let me see that cunt.” Another one of the men gets handsy, grabbing the dancer’s ankle as she moves past. She jerks her leg away, kicking the asshole’s face in the process, and the prick stands. “You fucking bitch,” he shouts, slurring his words.
That’s my cue. I stand, rolling my shoulders, and approach the table, gripping his shoulder. “Sit the fuck down,” I growl, shoving him down into his seat.
The man sneers at me. “Fuck off.” He goes to remove my hand, and it’s all it takes to set me off. I fist his hair and slam his face into the table’s surface.
Shit escalates quickly.
One of his buddies responds, pulling a knife and slashing it toward me.
I sidestep, grabbing his wrist and twisting until the blade clatters to the floor. He swings at me, but I block the blow.Driving my fist into his gut, he doubles over. But I’m not done. Not by a long shot. I have a lot of pent-up anger, and I release it on the son of a bitch. I deliver another blow, this time to the side of his head, and he falls to his knees. Not letting up, I drive the toe of my boot into his ribcage.
The third man at the table steps up, taking a swing at me with a chair, clipping my shoulder. The chair crashes onto the nearby table, and the glass shatters.
Salem comes up behind the motherfucker, grips his shoulder, spins him around, and slams a fist in his face.
I haul the knife-wielding asshole to his feet and drag him toward the exit. Salem isn’t far behind, along with our bouncer, Theo, with his two friends. We toss their drunk asses out into the parking lot.
“Show your faces here again, and I’ll put a bullet in ya.”
We watch them stagger to their vehicle before heading back inside.
“You feelin’ any better?” Salem’s voice cuts through the tension.
I work my sore knuckles, letting the pain ground me. “Yeah, a bit.”
It’s late when we finally shut the place down. Everyone has gone home except Salem, who’s in his office, and me. I step outside, light a cigarette, head for my bike, and wait on Salem. The night air is a little cool and a little too quiet. My thoughts take advantage of the stillness, and I immerse myself in them, rehashing this morning’s events.
Suddenly, a sharp pain explodes at the back of my head, and I stumble forward, my vision blurring. “Son of a bitch,” I hiss.
“Not so tough now, are you motherfucker?” The voice comes from behind me, and I spin around, coming face to face with three of the bastards we tossed out of the club earlier in the night. They quickly surround me, fists and boots flying.
